


Lips Like Sugar

by indirafallen



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Denial, Fluff, Gay Billy Hargrove, Goth Robin (Stranger Things), I Will Go Down With This Ship, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, Pining, Steve Harrington Is a Mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-05-15 04:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19287754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indirafallen/pseuds/indirafallen
Summary: The boys are idiots.  I mean absolute idiots.  Robin is the cool goth girl you wished you were friends with.  Expect lots of 80s music references.Steve looked up as the door to Scoops jingled, trying hard to plaster his customer service smile back on his face even though it was a quarter to close.  That battle was lost the second he saw just who their customer was: Billy fucking Hargrove.





	1. Hungry Like the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be self-indulgent fluff. Another warm up before I start writing my angsty fic. But then it became more serious and a lot longer... but it's still self-indulgent fluff.
> 
> Also, taking a lot of liberties with Robin and other plot points since I'm writing this before season 3 airs. Probably not going to touch on season 3's plot much as I'm saving that for my other fic. Remember, this is FLUFF.

Steve looked up as the door to Scoops jingled, trying hard to plaster his customer service smile back on his face even though it was a quarter to close.  That battle was lost the second he saw just who their customer was: Billy fucking Hargrove.

 

Steve had been wiping down the front counter, a rainbow swirl of sticky ice cream smearing across the Formica surface as his damp rag swished lazily back and forth.  He liked getting a headstart on closing procedures so he could get out of here shortly after the mall closed and have a chance in hell at having a social life. (OK, not that he had a huge social life these days, outside of the nerd squad, and his ex and her new boyfriend.  Who was he kidding? He was going to go home and eat pizza while watching reruns of The Dick Van Dyke show.) And honestly, there wasn’t exactly a ton of people beating down the doors for ice cream at 8:30 at night anyway. Well… except for super annoying mulleted dickheads apparently.

 

He cast a glance to his right where Robin was leaned up against the back counter reading some weirdo music magazine that featured bands even Jonathan hadn’t heard of.  The red and black cover featured an androgynous figure in a cross between Dandy and Victorian mourning wear, hanging out in a graveyard with the word _Propaganda_ stretched across the top.   _Morbid_ , Steve thought.  Despite fighting demodogs and other real life horrors, or maybe because of it, the artificial fascination with death and dark things just didn’t quite hold any appeal to him.  But it sure seemed to interest his heavily eyelinered coworker.

 

Before Steve could even utter a word, Robin, without looking up from her magazine, snapped her gum and said, “Uh uh.  He’s your problem, Harrington.”

 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose as if he were in dire pain.  And well he was. There was a catastrophic migraine blooming behind his eyes with the force of a category 5 hurricane and its name was Hurricane Billy.

 

As if on cue, two tanned hands bedecked in silver rings slammed onto the counter with just enough force to make Steve jump back.

 

“Damn it, Hargrove.  What do you want?”

 

“Heyyyyy, pretty boy,” the younger blonde purred while running his tongue dangerously along his teeth in a parody of seduction.  “I just came in looking for something…,” he paused for effect, “sweet.” He shifted his weight, cocking one denim clad hip as he leaned more fully on the counter, placing his chin in his palm.  “Think you can help me with that?” He flicked his eyes over to Robin, who was doing her level best to ignore the two boys, before focusing back on Steve, peering up at the older boy from under sinfully long lashes.

 

Steve gritted his teeth.  Hargrove had been making a regular habit out of harassing Steve at work ever since he’d taken the summer job at the ice cream parlor in Starcourt Mall.  He’d come in at least once a week to insult Steve while demanding the complimentary samples Scoops guaranteed to customers who were having trouble making up their minds.  Steve would be forced to go through a handful of tiny plastic spoons, scraping out sample scoops of rocky road and mint chocolate chip to appease his most indecisive “customer” while said customer made lewd gestures with his tongue around the cold, sticky sweets, only to decide at least 75% of the time that he wasn’t interested in a cone after all.  (Steve was pretty sure he only deigned to buy a cone that other 25% of the time so that Steve couldn’t have an excuse to ban him.) It was Steve’s own personal hell.

 

Tonight Billy had sauntered in wearing tight, dark jeans over black leather boots.  The denim clung so tightly that Steve could practically make out the definition of the muscles in Billy’s thighs… and the outline of something obscene.  He tried not to think about that particular body part. He’d seen enough of it in the showers - not on purpose! - but there was something about the way it was framed by the worn-in denim that made everything so much worse.  Speaking of, tucked into those wickedly tight jeans was a red button-down, whose purpose seemed undervalued as it was unbuttoned nearly down to his navel, showing off the blonde’s smooth, chiseled chest, a silver medallion bouncing gently against his tanned skin as he beelined towards his former teammate.  A black leather jacket, warm for the season and clearly just for aesthetic, had topped off the look.

 

Steve tried to bite back a groan as his nose was assaulted by strong cologne and cheap hairspray.  Idly Steve wondered if Billy had a date tonight after his scheduled Steve harassment time. He seemed far too dressed up just to go to the mall and pick on his high school rival.  Is that what they were to each other? Steve wasn’t particularly sure anymore. To him, Billy was just a pain in his ass. After the incident at the Byers’ house, and Max’s threats, Billy had stayed true to his word and ceased any sort of threatening actions towards Steve.  In fact, Steve had enjoyed a solid couple months of peace where Billy just left him alone, other than forced interactions during basketball or classes. It was pure bliss.

 

But of course it had been too good to last.  

 

Shortly after winter break, Billy had begun making little comments toward Steve.  Mostly just insults about the way Steve was playing that day, or a comment about Steve’s hair.  Sometimes he’d simply bump into Steve’s shoulder as he passed him in the hall, with a muttered, “Watch where you’re going, Harrington,” tossed out as an afterthought.  None of it was particularly malicious or threatening… in fact, there was something almost friendly about it, though that really didn’t make much sense to Steve. To be honest, it was like some unseen force was continuously drawing Billy to Steve, inexplicable and unending, like a wave lapping at the beach.  Each time he drew back, he would only crash harder on the rocky shore in an endless cycle.

 

Steve didn’t really know what to do about it.  It wasn’t such a big deal that he felt it warranted him telling the Party.  Things had been relatively stable between Billy and Max… ok, maybe painfully awkward silence would be a better description… but they weren’t fighting really.  And Steve didn’t want to be the cause of the end of their ceasefire, especially not over something so petty. Perhaps if Billy had escalated his antagonism Steve would have broached the subject with Max or even Nancy, but he found himself strangely not wanting to get Billy in trouble for these tiny transgressions.  

 

In a weird way, Steve kinda wondered if maybe he’d missed this?  Not the part where he nearly got his face caved in while Billy raged like something feral and in pain, snot and tears ruining his perfect image of rage by hinting at a shameful vulnerability lurking just beneath the surface.  And not the part where Billy would gang up on Steve with Tommy and the other lunkheads on the team, making Steve feel small and alone as he realized just how little his friendship had meant to the other boys. No, what Steve missed, as odd as it might sound, was their frequent pissing match that tested Steve’s wit and lit a fire within his gut.  There was something appealing to having a verbal sparring partner that could match Steve tit for tat. Whenever he got a good dig in, Steve would feel invigorated, like something sharp and clear had broken through the inescapable drudgery of his small town life because one thing Billy Hargrove wasn’t was boring.

 

Steve checked back into the conversation just as he noted that Billy appeared to be wearing eyeliner, or perhaps mascara?, smudged subtly around his eyes, though not nearly as thick as Robin liked to wear hers.  So, there _was_ a date then.  Just Steve’s luck that Billy would literally schedule time in his evening to stop by, as if pestering Steve was as equally if not more important than whoever Billy’s flavor of the week was at the moment.

 

“Just tell me what you want, Hargrove.  We’re closing in fifteen.” Steve threw the rag on the back counter with a wet plop before wiping his hand dry on his scandalously short uniform, the synthetic fabric barely absorbing the moisture.  He found his other hand was already running through his hair impatiently, unable to control the nervous tick around his frustratingly annoying former classmate.

 

“Hmmm…” Billy hummed while pretending to look thoughtful.  “That doesn’t seem like the proper Scoops Ahoy! Attitude, Stevie.  Where’s my customer service with a smile?” The blonde’s eyes fluttered droopily as he flicked his tongue out to moisten his lips.

 

Steve stuck his hands on his hips in his most put-upon mom pose and stared down his nose at the other teen.  “C’mon, man. I want to close up. Are you actually going to buy something tonight or just dick around?”

 

Billy rolled his eyes in amusement before straightening up.  He took a moment to raise his arms above his head and stretch, a soft pop echoing as he cracked his back.  “Mmm… I think I’m having a hard time deciding what flavor I want tonight.” He grinned at the obvious annoyance Steve failed at keeping off his face.  “Maybe you could get me a sample of…” he leaned over to peer in the case before squaring up again, “strawberry?”

 

Steve flicked an imploring look over at Robin who was still studiously ignoring both boys before huffing out an exaggeratedly loud sigh while he dug his fingers in the metal canister for a handful of sample spoons.  Because he knew that realistically Billy would not be satisfied by merely one. Steve walked around Robin’s outstretched Docs to get to the strawberry canister on the far end of the freezer. As he busied himself gathering the sample, Billy’s attention turned towards his coworker.

 

“Hey Robin, whatcha reading?” Billy leered towards the brunette.  

 

Robin smacked her gum again as she slowly turned to the next page, her gaze never leaving the glossy pages of the magazine.  “Sorry, it’s above your reading level.”

 

Billy mimicked placing his hands on his heart as he tilted his head back in mock pain.  “You wound me, sweetheart.”

 

Before Billy could get another word in, Steve shoved the sample spoon at him, teeth gritted.  “Here. Strawberry.” There was a steely look in Steve’s normally puppy dog brown eyes that communicated he wasn’t going to deal with any more BS directed his coworker’s way.  

 

It was bad enough that Billy had to bother him on a regular basis, but he felt an awkward guilt at having to subject Robin, someone completely outside of their high school clique or the Party, to this sort of nonsense.  Robin, to her credit, seemed nonplussed by the entire interaction, but Steve didn’t want to risk falling out of her good graces. She was one of the few people his age that he could actually talk to these days and have an emotionally intelligent conversation with.  Tommy didn’t count.

 

Although Steve had managed to get back on neutral footing with Tommy and Carol by graduation, it wasn’t really the same.  As the school year had drawn to a close, the seniors were overwhelmed by a sense of nostalgia and a certain trepidation for what the future held.  They would all be going their separate ways soon, dispersing across the country to new schools, new experiences, new lives. This might be the last time they all saw each other… at least until a reunion probably only a quarter of them would attend.  With emotions running high, many of the students had chosen to mend fences with former friends and even form fledgling bonds with those they’d only ever spoken to intermittently. House parties that summer contained an eclectic mix of people who normally wouldn’t have hung out as everyone was so desperate to cling to what they had left of the familiar experience of high school before venturing out into the unknown adult world in the autumn.

 

Tommy had been quick to take advantage of the wave of nostalgia permeating the senior class and practically begged Steve to give their friendship another chance.  And truthfully there had been enough sincerity in Tommy’s eyes that Steve couldn’t deny him. Despite how far their paths had drifted, despite what an asshole Tommy (and Carol) could be, Steve had been suckered in by sentimentality, not wanting to end high school without his oldest friend.  

 

But that didn’t mean they were close the way they had been.  Steve wasn’t sure that was even possible anymore. Not after what he’d seen, what he’d experienced.  He couldn’t talk to Tommy about the things that kept him awake on quiet nights while the rest of his neighborhood slumbered.  And not just because he was contractually obligated not to speak of them by a shady government organization. Tommy really didn’t have the mental capacity or the desire to speak deeply of the existential nightmare that tore at the edges of Steve’s consciousness whenever he let his mind drift a little too far.  Robin, though, with her weird music and thick books on everything from philosophy to gothic romance, was a far better sport about it.

 

Steve didn’t want to risk losing their still nascent connection which was why he was already gathering Billy’s usual picks on the flimsy pink plastic spoons to keep the asshole’s mouth too occupied to annoy Robin further.  Billy, all too predictably, was swirling the spoon around his tongue in a gesture was totally obscene, even though Steve couldn’t really explain why.

 

“Hey Rob-” he began before Steve cut him off with a gruff, “Here,” and shoved three more spoons in Billy’s face.

 

Billy chewed on his thumbnail absently as he eyeballed the ice cream being presented to him.  He noticed the way Steve’s hands gripped the tiny spoons so hard that his knuckles had gone white and the tendons in his forearms popped to the surface.  He smirked in delight at how easily he had already gotten under Steve’s skin for the evening.

 

He selected the spoon containing a glob of pastel green with dark chocolate chips and tugged it from Steve’s iron grip.  Sparkling blue eyes met irritated brown as he popped the spoon in his mouth while dropping the used one on the counter, ignoring the tiny trash bin next to the register for just such purposes.  

 

“Mmm… it’s such a… _hard_ decision tonight,” Billy forced the double entendre into existence with embarrassing bluntness.  A sure sign that he was fucking with Steve rather than flirting with Robin or some other girl. He punctuated his lament with a flirtatious wink, you know, in case Steve was truly oblivious.

 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose again while insistently holding out the other two spoons with the opposite hand.

 

“Maybe you could, uh, help me make a decision.  Eh, Stevie? Whaddya think?” Billy snatched the other two spoons and licked them clean.  He saved the last spoon to run his tongue over suggestively while waiting for Steve’s response.

 

“What I think,” Steve bit out, one hand on his hip, “is _tick tock_.  We’re closing in five minutes so pick something or leave.”

 

There was something like genuine disappointment that seemed to flash across the younger boy’s face at the realization that their allotted bantering time was soon coming to a close.  But it was so fast that if Steve had blinked he may have missed it. Billy schooled his features back into flirtatious and suave before his gaze trailed away from Steve and back onto Robin.  “That’s alright,” he spoke languidly, as if Steve hadn’t just imposed a time limit on their interaction, “I don’t think I’m in the mood for ice cream tonight. I really just came to see if Robin would like to go out after work.”

 

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes.

 

“How about it, sweetheart?  Got any plans after close? I could show you a real good time.”

 

 _God_ , Steve thought, _how much cornier could Hargrove get_?  Billy had never seemed to be lacking a girl on his arm the entire time school year, but Steve hadn’t ever really paid that close of attention as to how Billy kept landing date after date.  It couldn’t possibly be with lines this lame, could it? Or maybe if you exuded enough confidence and sprayed enough cloying cologne under your practically painted on clothes, you could say just about anything and still score with the hottest girls in Hawkins?

 

Robin actually deigned to look up from her magazine this time.  A strand of chin length wavy hair had fallen across her hazel eyes and she tucked it behind her ear with efficiency.  She made a show of looking Billy up and down slowly as she closed her magazine and set it on the counter behind her. She tapped a chipped black nail against her dark red stained lips once, twice, three times before she finished taking measure of the teen boy on the other side of the counter.

 

“No,” she stated bluntly, “I’m not what you want.”

 

Steve turned his head to look at her in confusion as he tried to puzzle out what she meant by her response.  Whatever it was, Billy seemed to get it. With a rueful grin, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his skintight jeans (how he managed to, Steve couldn’t tell you.) and began to back away toward the exit.

 

“Your loss,” he shrugged, then added, “Night, princess.”  He gave Steve one last wink before turning and walking out the door.

 

Robin, to her credit, looked unperturbed as she grabbed the keys to lock up the entrance.  As she pushed past Steve to get around the counter, she ever so casually tossed out, “So why aren’t you two boning?”

 

Steve spluttered, eyes going wide and hands gesturing erratically as he tried to process and formulate a response.  “Wha-what? No. NO. _Why_?” was all he managed to get out.

  
Robin paused about midway through the sea of tables and turned to look at Steve.  “Dude. He’s got it _bad_ for you.”


	2. Barracuda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Robin debate Billy Hargrove's taste in men. Challenges are issued.
> 
>  
> 
> He wasn’t even sure why they were having this discussion. It’s not like it mattered if Billy Hargrove were gay... It didn’t matter that that mulleted asshole was probably at the center of Steve’s current realizations regarding his alleged ‘not 100% straightness’ (which was STILL ALL ROBIN’S FAULT). None of it mattered because Billy Hargrove was still a total and complete douchebag. 
> 
> And he was definitely straight. Robin was just fucking with him. She had to be.
> 
> If Steve were to have said that out loud, Robin would have assured him that she most definitely was not fucking with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is short. It was originally supposed to be part of a larger sequence of events, but I decided to split them into two chapters since they occur on different days.
> 
> 7/13/19 - I edited Robin to be a lesbian instead of bisexual now that season 3 has confirmed it. Who could have predicted we'd get so lucky with a canon lesbian?? Also, amended a sentence to show that they had attended the same high school. Pretty pleased that my characterization wasn't too far off the mark though. All it's missing is the "You Suck" chart. ;)

“Dude.  He’s got it _bad_ for you.”

 

Steve was already shaking his head “no” before Robin even finished.  “Uh uh. No way. We hate each other,” he protested. “And Hargrove is straight as an arrow.  That guy has like a new girl every week.”

 

“Yeah, exactly.”  Robin shrugged as she locked the door, the bell jingling faintly as she tugged on the handle to be sure.

 

“How does that support your argument??” Steve looked flummoxed, hands flailing wildly in frustration.  He wasn’t even sure why they were having this discussion. It’s not like it mattered if Billy Hargrove were gay.  That wouldn’t actually change anything. Even _if_ Steve were possibly maybe reconsidering just how straight he was exactly (and that was ALL Robin’s fault, because of their lengthy morning discussions on her lesbianism, and the concept of bisexuality, and something called the Kinsey Scale), it still would not matter one iota because this was Billy fucking Hargrove they were talking about.  It didn’t matter how nice his chest looked when water sluiced down between his pecs in the locker room showers after practice. It didn’t matter how taut and muscular his thighs looked as they strained the fabric of his tiny, dark green basketball shorts. It didn’t matter that that mulleted asshole was probably at the center of Steve’s current realizations regarding his alleged ‘not 100% straightness’ (which was STILL ALL ROBIN’S FAULT).  None of it mattered because Billy Hargrove was still a total and complete _douchebag_.  

 

And he was _definitely_ straight.  Robin was just fucking with him.  She had to be.

 

If Steve were to have said that out loud, Robin would have assured him that she most definitely was not fucking with him.  As it were though, Robin was doing that annoying (intimidating) thing she did where she arched one thick brown eyebrows at him while calmly folding her arms over her chest.

 

“OK, no.  A _look_ is not an argument.  You haven’t even begun to defend your position…” Steve trailed off a little as he scooped up the mess of tiny plastic spoons a certain blonde dickhead had left behind.  He was beginning to sound like Robin and her weirdo philosophy books. It was almost ironic but Steve could swear he had learned more from opening shifts with Robin than most of his highschool career.  If only they'd been friends in school, maybe then he wouldn’t be stuck working at Scoops all summer with no real definite plan for his future. Robin had a way of helping him understand difficult concepts by breaking things down into relatable analogies.  It almost made academic concepts… fun? Interesting at the very least.  

 

Robin just rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and released her arms as she stalked over to the backroom to grab the deposit box, her Docs thudding heavily on the linoleum.

 

Steve gawped at her a moment before leaving the confines of the counter to go wipe down the tables, assuming the conversation was over.  If he scrubbed the tabletops a little more vigorously than usual, it was purely coincidence. Soon Steve found himself lost in the rhythm of the nighttime closing ritual, the soft sounds of top 40 radio crackling over the old speakers hidden somewhere in the ceiling.  He sighed when he realized it was The Captain and Tennille. _Again_.

 

“You know, I have impeccable gaydar,” Robin broke the silence as she slammed the safe deposit on the counter.  Steve _did not_ nearly jump out of his skin.  Truly.

 

“Well, I think this time it’s broken,” Steve grumbled while consciously willing his heartbeat back to a normal rate.  He whipped his rag one last time before moving onto the next table, spray bottle at the ready. “He’s probably slept with half of Hawkin’s female population.  And you know,” he turned towards Robin, his rag hand on his hip while he shook the spray bottle in a vaguely menacing gesture at his coworker (well, it would be menacing if Steve wasn’t the human equivalent of a golden retriever), “Even if he were gay, I would be the LAST person on earth he’d have a crush on.  We despise each other, Robin. He literally rearranged my face last year!” Steve huffed exasperatedly, rag whipping in the air for effect.  

 

Logically he knew that Robin hadn’t been privy to the vast majority of the boys’ interactions, so she’d missed out on seeing their high school rivalry crest and peak with the ill-fated night at the Byers’.  Even before that, she’d missed out on the growing tension at the Halloween party, and the ensuing jockeying for position… a position Steve admittedly didn’t even want! But Billy seemed hellbent on having a rival to steal it from instead of just simply taking what was already being offered to him.  

 

“Well…” Robin drawled, “it is an _extreme_ form of pigtail pulling.”  She paused counting the register drawer to tap a nail thoughtfully against her lower lip and gave a little shrug.  

 

Steve made an exasperated scowl before turning away to refocus on the tables.  This conversation was not worth his full attention. It was just slowing him down, and he did not want to be at work any longer than necessary.  He had a frozen pizza waiting at home with his name on it.

 

“Listen,” Robin said as she dumped some change into the register tray, “I am so fucking sure that the dude has a raging hard-on for you that I am willing to put money it.”

 

“Robin…” Steve started, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder to be met with her determined stare.  He worried his lip pensively as he turned back away, eyes not really focusing on the table in front of him as his heart picked up its pace again.

 

Steely hazel eyes were still fixed firmly on what was now the back of Steve’s head.  “I’m serious, Harrington. I bet you I can fucking prove it by the end of summer.” She raised an eyebrow in challenge even though it was lost on her annoyingly stubborn coworker.

 

Steve didn’t respond right away.  He could feel his pace slowing unwillingly as the gears worked overtime in his head.  On the one hand, it was a pretty easy bet. The summer would pass by uneventfully, with Billy stopping in once or twice a week to harass Steve - at least until he finally grew bored of this juvenile game.  Nothing would happen that could possibly prove Billy had anything other than antagonistic feelings toward Steve. And then Steve would collect on whatever the terms of the bet were. On the other hand, he wouldn’t put it past Robin to manipulate the situation in an attempt to prove her point, which would undoubtedly embarrass Steve in the process.  Still… it might be worth the risk if only to finally be the one to tell Robin “I told you so” for once.

 

Steve chanced shooting another glance her way before studiously keeping his attention on the last table.  “Alright… let’s say I take this bet. I want to be clear on the terms. Like you can’t just say you won because he calls me pretty to be a dick or something.”

 

The music had, thankfully, switched over to something more palatable at this point than the irritating blandness of Nancy’s dad’s favorite band.  The beginning strains of Barracuda by Heart began and Robin cranked up the volume on the store’s controls.

 

“Oh no… no, no,” Robin tutted, “This will be unequivocal proof that we both have to agree on.”  She smiled dangerously as she bumped the register closed with her hip. It was unfortunate that Steve’s back was still turned at the moment as that smile would have been an excellent warning that he was walking unprepared into shark infested waters.  Truly, what a shame that he had the misfortune of remaining oblivious.

 

Steve hummed a response as he finally turned around to head back towards the cash wrap.  Robin had slipped into the backroom to put the money back in the safe. It was one of the more shallow back rooms as far as mall stores went, which made sense as they didn’t exactly need to store inventory like the typical retail venues.  He could still hear her voice with fairly good clarity as she called out, “How about we put… eh, fifty bucks on it?” Steve wasn’t sure, but he felt like she may have been holding back a cackle.

 

“Fifty?!” Steve practically squeaked.  It wasn’t like he wasn’t good for it. He may be working at Scoops Ahoy! for the summer, but he was still the offspring of wealth and privilege.  Robin though… well she wasn’t out there living on Cherry Street like the subject of their bet, but neither was she living within the likes of a neighborhood such as Loch Nora.  Fifty dollars would actually mean something to her. Steve waited until she emerged from the backroom, finally making eye contact with his surprisingly tall coworker.

 

“What, Harrington?  Afraid you’re going to lose,” She grinned wickedly as she elbowed past him.

 

“Huh?  What… no!” he spluttered, caught off guard again.  This was unfortunately becoming a thing this evening.  He leaned against the wall while he waited for Robin to gather her personal belongings.  “I.. just, uh, look. That’s a lot of m-money… for a ridiculous bet. I’d feel kinda bad collecting from you…” he rubbed his neck while looking up at her sheepishly from under dark lashes.

 

If Steve were being honest, the money aspect was only part of the problem.  Something about the whole concept of the bet, or perhaps who it focused on, made him irritatingly uncomfortable.  What if Billy Hargrove really did have a crush on him? If he were in denial or in the closet, it might actually go pretty far towards explaining the younger boy’s odd behavior.  Though truthfully, Steve had long since given up trying to figure out what went on in that mulleted head. He wasn’t entirely sure Billy himself knew his own motivations half of the time.  Probably the fumes from that cheap hairspray he favored had killed most of his brain cells.

 

But did he want to know if Billy had a crush on him?  Steve’s throat felt excessively dry and he attempted to swallow.  His mind didn’t register that his long, slim fingers had been fiddling with the hem of the navy blue polyester monstrosity that passed for a work uniform this whole time.  He wasn’t sure if there was a simple answer to that question. He could, under certain circumstances involving late nights and plenty of alcohol, at least admit to himself that Hargrove was pleasant to the eye, but he still harbored significant misgivings towards the blonde menace.  It would almost be cruel to know that there was something like a possibility there between them, when it was something Steve would never let himself act upon. And yet...

 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Robin said as she swung her satchel over her shoulder, “You won’t be.”  She said it with both finality and challenge, though her expression remained congenial.  

 

Steve could feel a hint of the fire that normally ignited when Billy issued a challenge and he knew what his response would be before he even spoke.  Straightening up as he kicked off the wall, he looked Robin in the eye and replied, “Fine. You’re on.”


	3. Burnt Offerings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin noticed the beginning of a pout forming on the other teen’s face and braced herself for the imminent whining. “Steve gives me strawberry…” he mumbled petulantly around a mouthful of ice cream.
> 
> “Oh my god! Oh. My. Fucking. God.” she burst out, immediately losing her chill. “Why don’t you just suck Steve’s cock already!?” Eyes wide and teeth clenched in a grimace, she threw her hands up for good measure before stalking over to the white board on the wall...
> 
> She turned around to finish her defacing of the whiteboard, sticking another tally mark in the “You Suck” column.
> 
> Billy left his sulk long enough to furrow his brow at Robin. “What was that for? Steve’s not even here,” he looked at her in confusion.
> 
> Robin arched a brow as she placed a hand on her hip, the other hand twirling the marker back and forth between her fingers. “It’s retroactive,” she explained, her gaze laser-focused on Billy, “Trust me, he deserves it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you've all noticed by now that I'm a slow writer. Uh, at least this is a long chapter?
> 
> Thank you Sevenxwinds for being my sort of beta reader/sounding board. All typos are mine.

It was only 9:45 in the morning when Robin heard the insistent fist pounding on the glass of the locked door.  She heaved a long suffering sigh and pushed away from the counter where she’d been counting down the register. “You’re early!” She yelled across the store with a glare, slowly trudging over to the entrance.  

 

Robin preferred to have all her morning responsibilities done before her weekly Sunday morning visitor.  She would purposely come in a little early to get a headstart on her tasks, usually bringing a mixtape and her portable stereo with her to avoid having to listen to the godawful pop selections that played throughout the mall’s stores on the corporate approved stereo systems.  It was her chance to clear her head and get some “me time” before the rush of annoying customers intruded on her peace and forced her into a permanent state of false cheeriness for 7 hours. As an assistant manager (and god, they must have been desperate to fill the role quickly before Starcourt opened), she was stuck here all day on Sundays, usually without help (unless there was an event at the mall) in order to cut down on costs.

 

She was wearing Chucks today, the ones with “Specimen” and “Bauhaus” scrawled in blue pen across the rubber, and they squeaked against the blue and white tile floor.  In truth, she preferred softer bands like Cocteau Twins, Clan of Xymox, or even Gene Loves Jezebel, but the harder Death Rock and Post Punk bands got you more cred… on the off chance anyone in this midwestern hellhole had any taste.  Grumbling to herself, she fished the store key out of her back pocket, a stack of bracelets jingling on her arm, and quickly threw open the door for her impatient guest.

 

“Took you long enough,” the antsy blonde groused around the cherry red Charms Blow Pop currently occupying his mouth.  He was working at it something fierce, trying to get to the bubblegum inside but not wanting to crack his teeth. He was in his orangish-red Hawkins Pool swim trunks and flip flops, a plain black sleeveless tee covering his torso so he’d be allowed into the mall.  His ever present Mary medallion and a silver hoop earring completed this morning’s ensemble.

 

Robin just rolled her eyes as she locked the door behind him.  The mall, and by extension the store, was eerily quiet save for the familiar guitar riffs of The Sisters of Mercy’s “Alice” coming through the tinny speakers of her boombox behind the counter.  She shoved the blonde forward in annoyance when he started to linger between the tables. “Go take a seat and be quiet until I’m ready for you.”

 

The blonde stiffened and sucked in a hiss of air when Robin touched his back.  He stumbled forward for a moment before catching himself on a table and obediently taking a seat.  He schooled his face to neutral before looking up at Robin with wide, innocent blue eyes. “So… do you have Steve’s schedule for next week?”

 

“I told you, dingus, you’re early.”  Robin rolled her eyes in frustration as she rounded the table, slapping her palms down hard enough that Billy flinched.  Some days she really wondered how she ended up being friends with these two morons. Literally, the two most popular guys at Hawkins High were now friends with the lesbian band nerd they hadn’t even known existed while they were still in school… like what alternate universe had Robin stumbled into?  Though, being friends with the two aforementioned morons meant actually getting to know them beyond the stereotypes and facades they had projected during their reigns as Kings of the school. And that’s how Robin had come to realize that they were both  _ fucking disasters _ .

 

Sometimes she felt more like their caretaker than their friend.  Case in point: right now she was leaning over the table and grabbing Billy’s chin in her hand, her grip a touch too strong to keep him from flinching away as he sucked air through his teeth.  She tilted his face at a better angle to catch the light, feeling the boy’s trembling reverberating through the point of contact. She made an assessing hum as her thumb traced carefully over the reddened skin on his chin where it was already purpling into a bruise, noting the ghost of a handprint shadowing his neck.  “Is this why you’re early?” she asked gently.

 

Billy narrowed his eyes and jerked his chin out of her hand with a huff.  He folded his arms on the clean white tabletop and focused his gaze somewhere in the middle, not saying a word.

 

Robin sighed in defeat as Billy clammed up - as usual.  Being a naturally observant person, it hadn’t taken Robin long to figure out what was happening in the Hargrove-Mayfield household, even if Billy was exasperatingly tightlipped about it.  They had settled into a tentative routine on days like this, Robin doing her best to take care of Billy and cheer him up without making him feel like she was pitying him. Because god forbid she hurt his fragile man-ego by making him feel weak or some bullshit.  She was pretty sure this attitude stemmed from Billy’s father as much as the bruises blossoming across his sun-kissed skin.

 

“I’ll get you some ice cream,” she droned wearily as she pushed away from the table.  As she was heading back towards the counter, she called over her shoulder, “My bag’s in the back room.”

 

Billy grunted in response before getting up and slouching towards the backroom with jerky movements, no longer bothering to disguise his pain.  He found Robin’s denim satchel on the plastic fold out table in the middle of the backroom and began digging through it like it was his own. His fingers brushed past one of Robin’s weirdo vampire novels and quickly felt the familiar shape of her makeup bag, pulling it out so he could dump the contents in front of him.  There was an assortment of lipsticks in varying colors and tube shapes, cherry chapstick and a packet of tic tacs along with a kohl pencil and sharpener. He pushed all these aside and reached for the tiny glass bottle and compact in matching shades, ignoring the identical items in a few shades lighter. They had never spoken about it out loud, but Robin had started buying her usual foundation and powder in a darker shade once Billy’s summer tan came in.

 

Stiff fingers pried open the compact and propped it up against the bag so that he could use the mirror handsfree.  He poured a small puddle of foundation into the palm of his left hand and dipped his two fingers in it, dabbing it gently over the tender bruise.  He still ended up gritting his teeth and hissing against the throbbing pain his careful touch provoked.  _ This was probably going to be a bad one _ , he thought sullenly.  He hadn’t had time to ice it down before running silently out of the house while his father was distracted.

 

After he finished with the liquid makeup, he picked up the compact again and flipped it to the powder side, using the white cloth pad that came with it to apply the powder evenly over his face and neck.  He was just clicking the compact shut when Robin appeared through the doorway, holding out a large hot fudge sundae covered in whipped cream, sprinkles, and peanuts.

 

Robin’s eyes slid down to where Billy was tucking the makeup back into its pouch.  “Ew, boy germs,” she said sarcastically, “Now I have to disinfect it.” She gave a small smirk as she set the sundae down in front of him and held out a spoon.

 

Billy just rolled his eyes as he grabbed the spoon.  He popped the half-finished cherry sucker out of his mouth and set it on the rim of the cardboard dish carefully before digging into the sundae.  Robin noticed the beginning of a pout forming on the other teen’s face and braced herself for the imminent whining. “Steve gives me strawberry…” he mumbled petulantly around a mouthful of ice cream.

 

“Oh my god!  Oh. My. Fucking. God.” she burst out, immediately losing her chill.  “Why don’t you just suck Steve’s cock already!?” Eyes wide and teeth clenched in a grimace, she threw her hands up for good measure before stalking over to the white board on the wall.

 

“I’m not a fag,” Billy answered automatically before shoving another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

 

Robin whipped around from where she had been going to grab one of the whiteboard markers, her honey brown hair flying in her face.  “No, of course not. You’re a real fucking hetero… who just happens to want to suck Steve Harrington’s dick and have his babies.” She emphasized her point by jabbing the marker in Billy’s general direction.

 

Billy looked like he was about to protest again when the cassette tape playing in the other room switched over.  With the sliding panels of the pass-thru open, they could both clearly hear Rozz Williams croaking out his strange, transgressive lyrics as Christian Death poured from the crackly speakers of Robin’s old boombox.

 

“ Fresh night perfect insanity

Very dark placid skies bring an end

No moon shining like an untouched

Ass of the boy next door”

 

Robin pointedly kept eye contact with Billy during the passage, her face impassive aside from one dark brow arched knowingly at the suddenly mute blonde, delighted in watching him squirm as he looked more and more like a deer caught in the headlights.  He looked away first, a faint wash of pink on his cheeks, and her lips curled up in a crooked smirk.

 

She loved fucking with Hargrove.  It was surprisingly easy if you knew what you were doing.  Which Steve obviously didn’t. And Billy almost always fell for her bullshit.  He was surprisingly gullible, if Robin were honest. She supposed it was because he was used to dealing with other guys, always expecting direct confrontation.  Even when it was subdued, it still wasn’t subtle.

 

It was kind of funny to her that Steve and Billy couldn't seem to exist in the same room without getting under each other’s skin.  Maybe the macho posturing and fighting was just their thing, she mused. She was secretly entertained by them sniping at each other regardless. 

 

She turned around to finish her defacing of the whiteboard, sticking another tally mark in the “You Suck” column.

 

Billy left his sulk long enough to furrow his brow at Robin.  “What was that for? Steve’s not even here,” he looked at her in confusion.

 

Robin arched a brow as she placed a hand on her hip, the other hand twirling the marker back and forth between her fingers.  “It’s retroactive,” she explained, her gaze laser-focused on Billy, “Trust me, he deserves it.” Billy seemed to accept that answer for now and ate his ice cream in silence for a few minutes while Robin reorganized her satchel and straightened a few things in the backroom.

 

“I just want to be his friend,” Billy muttered sullenly, breaking the silence.  Robin was still betting that he wanted to be a lot more than friends with Steve Harrington - in fact, she had fifty bucks riding on it - but for now she would just accept his words at face value in order to move the conversation along.  She sat down next to him at the table, plastic chair creaking ominously under her weight, and tilted her head, motioning for him to continue.

 

Billy swirled his spoon in the softening ice cream, blonde curls falling across and obscuring his eyes as he stared down at the sundae *that wasn’t strawberry*.  The silence stretched on long enough that Robin was about ready to give up on him speaking… but then he spoke.

 

“I fucked up,” he admitted quietly.

 

Robin had an idea about what he was referring to, or so she thought.  Between Billy and Steve’s vague allusions to some fight last year she had kind of pieced things together (and wasn’t it worth noting that these two idiots never shut up about each other?).  She remembered them both coming to school looking like they’d been run over by a bus, Steve worse than Billy. Hell, if she were honest, Steve’s face had looked like Hamburger Helper. No wonder that Henderson kid got on his case for never winning a fight - the dude lost  _ spectacularly _ . 

 

Billy stuck the spoon into the mound of melting ice cream and pushed the wax coated cardboard bowl aside, giving him more room to fold his arms on the cheap card table.  His fingers tapped against his elbow in agitation, itching for a cigarette to calm his nerves. That he’d fucked up had been an understatement. He hadn’t done anything right from the very beginning.  

 

He’d misjudged Steve.  He’d thought that Steve would be like all the other dipshit jocks at the top of the high school popularity pyramid - just some vapid asshole he could sink his fists into on a bad day.  But Steve had surprised him. The older, brown haired boy hadn’t been interested in all that petty high school bullshit. Not that Steve was necessarily some mature, wise beyond his years type either.  No, he was a bit of a goofball and he definitely had issues of his own, most of which Billy was still puzzling to figure out, but he was also just a genuinely good guy who cared a lot about his friends… which all too late Billy had figured out included the kids his sister -  _ step-sister _ ? -  hung out with.

 

That was the other thing… as Billy and Max had slowly reached a tentative peace in the weeks that followed that goddamn night, it had also given Billy further insight into the way their little friends group worked.  And that in turn had led him to know more about Steve than he’d hoped for. Steve… the same Steve who’d been abandoned by his friends in the popular crowd, whose girlfriend had ditched him for the school freak, had somehow managed to form genuine friendships with his ex, the freak, and a gaggle of unlikely middle schoolers.  And that seemed to make him content? At least it appeared that way to Billy. And that’s when Billy had begun to examine his own life and the hollow friendships he’d made so far at Hawkins High. It’s not that his friends back home in San Diego had been the greatest people, and lord knows he’d gotten into enough trouble because of them, but at least they had felt like real friends.  The popular crowd here in Hawkins had been quick to replace their king with the latest and greatest new kid that had come along. He could smell their lack of sincerity a mile away. These weren’t people he could trust or depend on. He was surrounded by adoring fans and lackeys, yet he was still all alone. The realization had seeped bitterly into his bones along with the chill of Midwest winter.  And that’s when he decided that he wanted Steve… well, the warmth of his genuine friendship anyway.

 

He’d started off small.  Just finding excuses to bump into Steve or make little jabs at his expense.  He didn’t want to come off like he was stalking the guy… despite having Steve’s class schedule memorized by heart.  It seemed to do the trick for a while, earning him just a tiny bit of Steve’s attention each day, quelling the agonizing pit of loneliness that had settled in his chest.  But soon that wasn’t enough. And with the school year ending, Billy had become frantic. How would he find Steve without the familiar halls of Hawkins High and the predictability of his school schedule?  Would Steve go off to college and leave him here? How long before Max would go off to college herself and leave him behind? He didn’t have enough money to go to college himself and Neil was already insisting he start paying rent as soon as he graduated.  What if he was forever stuck in that house on Cherry Street, under Neil’s rules and Neil’s fists…?

 

He had worked himself up into a right panic at that, snapping at Max almost as badly as he used to last year until finally she had snapped right back and yelled at him to get his head out of his ass.  That had given him enough pause to pull himself out of the worst of it and think semi-clearly again. And wasn’t that a kick in the teeth? Getting yelled at by a soon to be freshman and actually obeying her because he was so terrified of losing the only good person he had in his life.

 

But the universe must have taken pity on him because no sooner than he’d gotten his panic under reasonable control, Max had let slip that Steve Harrington was working at the ice cream parlor in the brand new Hawkins mall.  And thus he could begin his  _ stalking _ ?…  _ courting _ ?…  _ befriending _ ? anew.  And this had then led him to developing his unlikely friendship with Robin, who had been all too amused and a tad bit too interested when Billy had first explained why he  _ needed _ Steve Harrington’s work schedule.  Sensing the potential for humiliation should word get out, Billy had made Robin swear that she wouldn’t say a word to Steve about his regular visits, not even letting him know that they were friends.  Which in hindsight may have been a bit overboard… and OK, Robin had told him on more than one occasion that he was being ridiculous. But he couldn’t see how he could possibly slip it into casual conversation with Steve that he was actually friends with Robin, and not just a pest, without things getting awkward or Steve asking  _ how _ they had become friends.

 

He must have zoned out because the next thing he knew, Robin was snapping her fingers in front of his face, concern creasing her brow.

 

“Hey dingus!  You awake?”

 

“Huh?” he asked dazedly.

 

“I asked… ‘And what are you doing to fix that?’  Like… have you tried being  _ nice _ to him?” she asked sardonically.

 

Billy pushed his curls out of his eyes and looked up at Robin in confusion.  “I  _ am _ nice to him.”

 

Robin blew out a breath and slid down in her seat so that she could flop her head down onto her forearms dramatically.  “Dude…. Annoying him is not the key to Steve Harrington’s heart,” her voice came out muffled against her skin. She tilted her head up so that she could at least look at Billy, her chin digging into the skin of her arms.  “I don’t see why you won’t just let me invite you along the next time Steve and I hang out. This is getting ridiculous, Billy.”

 

Billy frowned and bit his lip.  He didn’t want to go through this argument again, so instead he said, “No, I don’t want him to just tolerate my presence out of pity… or loyalty to you.”

 

“Ughhh, Bil-ly,” Robin groaned as she rested her cheek on her arms, indicating how much this conversation was exhausting her.  

 

“I just want him to actually want to hang out with me of his own free will,” he persisted.

 

Robin tried really hard not to roll her eyes.  She didn’t succeed. “Then just fucking talk to him the next time you’re in.  Like a normal person.”

 

Billy hummed a response, which was probably as close as Robin was going to get to agreement.  “Well, if that’s settled, I really should get back to finishing opening procedures and making next week’s schedule…”  She lifted her head and started to get out of her seat, but Billy stopped her.

 

“Wait… Uh, can I swing by after close?  To, um, talk some more?”

 

Robin sighed.  “Any other time, Hargrove.  But I’ve got plans tonight. I’ve got a girl stopping by before close, and then we’re going to go out to see a movie.”  The beginnings of a wistful smile brightened her face as she thought about the long blonde hair and delicate features of her own personal Galadriel.

 

Billy perked up at this.  “A date? You?” he teased.  He knew how hard it was for Robin, being mostly in the closet in a shit midwestern town where this sort of thing could still land you a beating if you came across the wrong people… even if you were a girl.  He tamped down the automatic fear that was trying to send bile up into his throat, determined to focus on the positive. This was the first time since their unlikely friendship began where Robin had announced a genuine prospect and he felt his whole mood shift with his unabashed, vicarious excitement.  “So… what’s her name?”

 

“Celestina,” she sighed dreamily, casting her gaze heavenward.  Billy couldn’t tell if she was being purposely dramatic or genuinely that enraptured by the thought of her date.

 

He licked his tongue over his teeth and smirked.  “Celestina? What kind of name is that,” he teased, eyes crinkling and freckled nose scrunching.

 

Robin lost her dreaminess and smacked his arm.  “Shut up! Her parents were hippies,” she glared.  “That’s why she’s open to this whole going out with a girl thing I think.  Look, I don’t need you here fucking this up for me, OK?”

 

Billy rolled his eyes good naturedly.  “Why? Are you afraid she’ll think we’re dating?” he laughed, before his smile turned lascivious, “Or are you afraid she'll fall for me?”  He winked and ran his tongue along his teeth for emphasis. He was still batting his lashes mockingly when Robin shoved his arm clear off the table.

 

“Oh, puh-lease.  You suck at flirting.”

 

Billy leaned back in his chair, ignoring the groan of the plastic, and folded his arms over his chest smugly.  “Never stopped me from having a new girl on my arm every week.” He gave her a wink as the corner of his lips quirked up in a self-satisfied smirk.

 

Robin pushed away from the table as her eyes threatened to roll so far in her head that they’d make a full circle.  “Oh, yeah? And how many of them did you actually fuck?” Her eyes drifted lazily to the white board and she contemplated starting a second one.

 

Billy’s smirk faltered for a moment, the muscles in his arms tensing and twitching defensively, but it was short-lived.  He forced his arms apart and spread them wide in a placating gesture that somehow doubled as brazen braggadocio. “Hey, they never left unsatisfied.”  

 

His voice was oily smooth now, the one that Robin always hated.  Robin hated it for a lot of reasons actually. She hated it because there was always an air of sexism that came with it.  And she hated it because it was fake. She knew Billy well enough by now to know that this was a front meant to impress other stupid teenage boys and all too eager (straight) teenage girls.  But most importantly, she hated it because it didn’t feel like her friend talking. She liked being privileged enough to know the real Billy, the one that hadn’t seen the light of day much since his younger years in California.  The one that made Robin actually want to be his friend and bring him ice cream on bad days and cover for him when he fucked up. She didn’t particularly like being treated like one of the stupid masses of Hawkins High… and it was with that cold gnawing feeling in her gut that she proceeded to take Billy down a peg, to wipe away that fragile smugness despite the alarm bells telling her this was a bad idea.

 

“Yeah?” she said cooly, a hand cocked on her hip as she feigned boredom.  “From your fingers or your cock?” she huffed a quiet laugh laced with sarcasm, “How many of them did you actually bone, Billy?”

 

She waited for his defensive rebuttal or perhaps a solid ‘fuck you’, but the boy across the room remained quiet and eerily still.

 

_ Oh no… oh noo _ , she thought, guilt immediately flooding her and overriding her momentary anger.  Robin knew better than to poke at this subject when Billy was still fresh from a beating.  If it had been anyone else but Robin he would have lashed out and beat the shit out of them by now… but Robin was his closest, his *only* friend.  And wasn’t that a revelation? She was Billy Hargrove’s only actual friend, his sister not counting. (And hell, she was Steve’s closest friend as well).  But being Billy’s best friend meant that he was vulnerable around her in ways he wouldn’t dare be with anyone else. It meant that he reigned in his anger and allowed other emotions to surface.  And right now he was about two seconds away from the waterworks.

 

She had really fucked up.  

 

She watched the play of emotions across his sun-kissed face with the weary resignation of someone who had seen it all too many times before.  The tears always came first. He cried easily… a sensitive boy with too much emotion and no proper way to channel it. The tears would quickly give way to anger and violence, trying to hide the embarrassment and vulnerability in the distraction of fists.  But since he couldn't do that with Robin, he just balled his hands into fists uselessly and ground his teeth so hard Robin was worried he was going to have jaw damage. But the anger was fleeting and his face soon crumpled. He covered it with his hands to avoid her seeing his red rimmed eyes… or perhaps in a childish hope of not being seen by not being able to see.

 

Robin dropped her stance and rushed to his side, hands hovering, unsure if she could touch him.  “Nooo… no, I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole. You… you’re like a real ladies man, Hargrove. Ok?”  She placed a hand slowly on his shoulder, giving him plenty of time to dodge if he wasn’t feeling up to it.   _ Please don’t cry _ , she mentally pleaded. 

 

“I’m not queer,” he sniffled.  

 

“I totally wasn’t going to go there,” Robin lied.  “You totally love the ladies, and the ladies love you,” she assured.  “Even I, despite being the biggest and  _ only _ queer in this room, have succumbed to thinking about you in the shower on more than one occasion,” she said as solemnly as she could muster.

 

Billy looked up at that and gave a watery laugh, the tension easing.  Robin knew then that he was going to be alright. 

 

“You know… you know I don't care that you like chicks, right?” He asked timidly, with growing concern that he may have fucked things up like he always does.  “Like it's ok that you're queer… just… just that I'm not.” He bit his lip to keep it from wobbling.  

 

Robin closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, giving him a patient nod.   “I know, Billy. It's OK.” She met his eyes. “It's OK,” she repeated, though perhaps this time she was responding to something else, something left unsaid.  Mollified, he nodded and swirled his ice cream around some more.

 

At this point she really wanted to get Billy to admit his feelings for Steve for his own sake, fifty bucks be damned.  Billy was so far in denial that it pained Robin… and genuinely worried her. What would happen to Billy if he continued down this path?  Would he try to settle down with a woman in a few years to appease society and his father? How much farther would he sink under that mask of womanizing bravado and asshole in order to mentally cope with a loveless marriage and a deep dissatisfaction with life?  Robin didn’t want to lose her friend to his own self-hate… but she wasn’t quite sure how to safely bring him to a revelation about his own sexuality. All she knew was that she had to tread lightly… and that Steve was the key.

 

Billy, who had been chewing on his lip thoughtfully, unfurled his fists and reached for the cherry red sucker.  “I should probably get going,” his voice was subdued but steady as he popped the sucker back into his mouth.

 

Robin sprung up from her crouch, spurred into action by the break in silence.  “Hang on. Let me get the schedule real quick.” She darted out of the room, leaving a slightly startled Billy who barely had time to quirk an eyebrow in confusion.

 

Billy stood up and stretched while he waited for Robin.  He hissed in pain as the sore muscles pulled and extended.  He really wished he didn’t have to go in to work today, but staying home would be far worse.  He wasn’t even sure what had set his dad off this morning, other than maybe that he’d been in high spirits this weekend after busting Steve’s balls Friday night.  His dad had yelled some bullshit about taking the trash out, but like it could totally wait until after Billy got home from work. It’s not like it needed to go out Sunday morning and he’d said as much…  _ Oh _ , Billy thought glumly.  Well, that tiny moment of disobedience is probably what set off the violence at least, even if Billy still couldn’t understand the rest of his dad’s motives.

 

Billy found himself pacing the room in boredom, waiting for Robin’s return.  He was almost startled when his teeth finally sank into the bubble gum of his Blow Pop with a loud crunch.  He gnawed the bubblegum off of the cardboard stick, folding the tiny shards of red candy glass into the softer confection before tossing the stick into his abandoned sundae.  Turning away from the table, he spotted a blob of grey fabric bunched up on one of the shelves and followed his curiosity over to the garment. He grabbed it off the shelf and shook out what turned out to be a grey  _ Hawkins Swimteam 1982 _ t-shirt, proudly displaying a roaring tiger face under the lettering.   _ Harrington _ , Billy connected the dots before fisting the t-shirt just as Robin appeared through the doors.

 

“OK, I rushed this a little but I’m pretty sure this is going to be the final schedule.  I’ll let you know if anything changes,” she said distractedly, not looking up from the hastily scribbled piece of paper before she extended it towards the blonde.

 

Billy took the paper with his free hand, trying hard not to think about the guilty blush he knew was creeping up his neck as he clutched the stolen t-shirt to his chest like a security blanket.

 

Robin, ever observant, tilted her head to the side as she studied her contrite friend… hazel eyes catching him red-handed.  “That’s Steve’s t-shirt…” she said slowly, as if she were waiting for him to catch up.

 

“Oh?” he responded dumbly before finding a corner of the wall really, excruciatingly fascinating.  His tongue darted out to lick nervously at his suddenly dry lips.

 

“Yeaaaah,” she drawled out, “He left it here the other day.”  She raised a dark brow as she scrutinized the boy in front of her.

 

“Ahhh, cool,” he said, making no motion to put it back.  He chewed his lip as he studied the slip of paper, mind not registering a damn thing.  “Ah, well, thanks again.. For this,” he waved the paper at Robin, “but I better get going before I’m late for work.”

 

Robin narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.  “Sure, Hargrove. You do that.”

 

“Uh… see you around!” he called out with forced cheerfulness before quickly slipping out the door to the backroom, both prizes still clutched tightly in his fists.

 

“See you around,” Robin muttered to the empty space where Billy had just been, her mind whirling a mile a minute as she dissected what had just happened.  Maybe he wasn’t such a lost cause afterall. 


	4. Blue Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy shows up to harass Steve at work without Robin as a buffer. 1 step forward and 2 steps back.
> 
>  
> 
> “That’s more like it,” Billy purred as he leaned over Steve’s shoulder to watch him work. The blonde’s hot breath tickled the short hairs at the nape of Steve’s neck, causing the brunette to shudder involuntarily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why this chapter was like pulling teeth, because I like what transpires and enjoyed writing certain scenes a lot... but damn was it a slog to get myself to stay in front of the computer. I kinda rushed the editing so I may sneak back to fix typos or alignment later if I catch any mistakes.  
> I just wanted this damned thing published already, haha. Hopefully the fact that this is the *new* longest chapter of this story makes up for the wait.

**Chapter 4 - Blue Monday**

 

Steve was ready to tear his hair out.  He was all alone behind the counter of Scoops Ahoy because Robin was on her lunch break, leaving him to deal with some unusually bitchy customers and the blonde bane of his existence.  Billy had been a nuisance since he had stopped in nearly a half hour ago… just as Robin had been leaving for break. He crowded into Steve’s space anytime there was a gap in customers. One of his favorite things seemed to be plastering himself over the cooler, exposed chest fogging up the glass where it connected, and resting his folded arms on top as he stared at Steve.  No doubt this was breaking multiple healthcode violations. Which Steve had told him  _ repeatedly _ to no avail.  And speaking of violations!  Steve was pretty sure that there was porn out there more subtle than the way Billy ate the banana he pilfered from the bunches hanging behind the counter.   Steve had hastily shoved Billy behind him before his culinary delinquency traumatized the two youngish teens that had approached the register. By the time Steve had finished with the teens, Billy was already licking his fingers, a shit-eating grin curling around the digits.  Steve must have been more in shock than he realized because he had blinked once and found himself with a slimy banana peel mushed into his upturned palms.  _ Damn it _ .

 

The mulleted menace was currently leaning against the wall near the blasted bananas, where Steve had banished him while he dealt with said “bitchy customers.”  And really, who the hell gets that anal over the roundness of the ice cream scoop that their bratty 5 year old is about to smear all over their face and clothes in two seconds flat?  Steve kept trying to assure the well-coifed Hawkins mother that his method of flat packing the ice cream actually gave them more bang for their buck, but of course she was having none of it.

 

“I’d like to speak to your manager,” the irritating blonde demanded for the umpteenth time, waving a tan hand resplendent in deep red nailpolish in Steve’s increasingly “fucking done with this shit” face.  The movement sent a fresh waft of Poison by Dior at Steve, forcing him to stifle a cough behind his hand. Hawkins’ “mom of the year” was wearing a black pencil skirt and a red tunic, nipped in at the waist and sporting subtle shoulder pads, that was far too nice for an outing at Starcourt Mall.  Steve thought she seemed like the type to hang around his parents, but he was fairly certain he’d never seen her before. Or her snot-nosed kid who was currently staring blankly at the counter in front of him, chubby fingers twisting in the hem of his striped ringer. His dark mop of hair was probably from the father… unless Mrs. “Speak-to-the-Manager” wasn’t a natural blonde.  

 

Steve just barely held back his sigh, but his weariness snuck through in his tone, “Ma’am, as I said, I am the shift leader on duty.  The assistant manager is on her lunch break right now. I can either remake your cone or give you your money back.” He swept his hand toward the cash register automatically.

 

“I don’t like your tone, young man.”

 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose before wiping his hand down his face.  He was about to say something until he heard the quiet snickering coming from off to his right.

 

Billy Hargrove was leaning against the wall, arms wrapped across his stomach as he bent over slightly with laughter.  He had one black booted foot planted on the wall, causing his thigh to flex and nearly bust the seam of his skintight denim jeans.  Billy was in his date night finest once again, though this time it was a white button down and his ubiquitous jean jacket. Although Steve swore he could smell the hairspray from here, Billy’s curls looked soft as they tumbled down with his bent head, partially obscuring the way his eyes crinkled in mirth.  The only thing marring his features was a light purple bruise on his chin. Most likely from getting into a fight like some asshole, Steve thought to himself in aggravation. He didn’t know why Billy’s recklessness bothered him so much, but he told himself it was probably because of the blonde’s general immaturity and the fact that he apparently got away with so much shit just by smiling and winking.

 

Steve shot the nuisance a dirty look to silence him, but it only seemed to draw the attention of the middle aged malcontent, directing her gaze toward the (surprisingly) less annoying, at least by comparison, blonde in the background.

 

“William? William Hargrove, is that you?” the woman’s voice had gone syrupy sweet as she focused on a clearly more worthy target.

 

Sensing that he was in the figurative spotlight, Billy straightened up into something approaching respectable but his shoulders reflexively slid back as he prowled over like a panther, all charm and animal magnetism.   _ Smarm _ , Steve amended in his head.  Billy Hargrove was definitely gross and smarmy and in no way a charming individual.

 

Billy smirked around his thumbnail as he chewed on it, chin tilted down so he was forced to look up at Mrs. Harris with bedroom eyes from under his thick lashes.  “Why Mrs. Harris… fancy running into you here,” the utter douchebag purred as if he was genuinely pleased to see her. Mrs. Harris seemed to buy into the act, despite the fact that Billy had made no effort to approach her before now, watching the entire scene play out while he laughed at Steve’s expense.  “My, your hair looks lovely today! Did you just get it done?”  

 

Steve couldn’t help but notice the subtle way Billy’s voice changed when speaking to the adult.  Despite the barely concealed flirtation, his tone was noticeably more respectable and open, taking on a relaxed cadence he’d never heard at school.  It dawned on Steve then that Billy was usually coiled tight, like a spring just waiting to pop. Even when he was hanging around the store annoying Steve, there was a tenseness in his voice and shoulders that never quite seemed to go away no matter how relaxed he appeared.  Steve’s eyes traveled over to the blonde’s denim covered shoulders and noted, with perhaps satisfaction, that they were even more tense than usual.

 

Mrs. Harris tittered like a school girl as she fluffed the back of her blonde pageboy.   “Why yes, I just got back from the salon.  How kind of you to notice,” she simpered, smiling up at the dashing young gentleman paying her compliments.  It appeared as though she was about to place her deep red talons on said young gentleman’s bicep, but Billy was already enacting evasive maneuvers much to her dismay.

 

Billy had crouched down with feigned surprise as he greeted the chubby cheeked little boy.  “Oh, I see you have little Georgie with you. How's the swimming coming along, little man?” Steve thought he might gag from all the false positivity.

 

Georgie, all dark hair and vacant eyes, twisted back and forth while clutching his mother's leg, his round, chubby face expressionless.  “Good.”

 

Billy straightened back up and smiled at Mrs. Harris.  “You have a good kid, Mrs. Harris. I’m so happy to have him in my class.”  To Billy’s credit, his smile only faltered for the briefest of moments when he caught Steve making gagging motions out of the corner of his eye.  Somehow Billy was capable of shooting daggers with his eyes at Steve while still maintaining his cheerful facade. Steve was actually kind of impressed… or would be if it had been anyone less annoying.

 

Oblivious to the subtle exchange between the boys, Mrs. Harris continued to undress Billy with her gaze.  “My little Georgie just loves his swimming lessons with you! Of course,” she lowers her voice, “I'm sure it helps that his teacher is so… skilled.”

 

Steve makes a disgusted scoff from behind the counter and Billy shoots him a warning glare.  But Mrs. Harris 's attention had already shifted and her face soured.

 

“I'm sorry to cut such a pleasant conversation so short… but I'm afraid I need to take care of this little problem,” she gestured with the ice cream cone that was already beginning to soften.

 

Before she could fully turn her attention to Steve, Billy interjected, “What seems to be the problem?”

 

Mrs. Harris recapped the situation with as much condescension as she could put in her voice toward Steve while Steve huffed sighs and shot daggers into her back, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.  Billy, though keenly aware of Steve’s mini-tantrum, managed to ignore the other boy as he nodded along sympathetically with Mrs. Harris’s plight before leaning in for a conspiratorial whisper, “Don’t be too hard on the kid, Mrs. Harris… He wasn’t exactly the brightest boy in school if you know what I mean.”  He made a serious face at Mrs. Harris before looking over at Steve with pity in his eyes. Really, he barely had to fake it.

 

Steve's face was turning bright red in the background while Billy and Mrs. Harris nodded gravely at each other.  “Oh dear,” she said quietly but not so quietly that Steve couldn't hear, “I didn't realize…”

 

Steve was pretty sure he could feel steam coming out of his ears.

 

“Here,” Billy said while gesturing for the cone in the annoying mother’s hand, “Let me take care of this for you.”  She smiled gratefully as she gave him the cone and Billy slid around the counter. “Move, Harrington,” he instructed no nonsense, while hip checking Steve.  

 

That was definitely the final straw.  Steve shoved the ice cream scoop at Billy's chest before throwing his hands up in exasperation.   He threw himself against the back wall and crossed his arms over his chest once more after ripping the hat from his head.  What terrible atrocity had he committed in his past lives to deserve this bullshit?

Billy smiled sweetly at the mom and asked what her son's order was as he took the rejected cone and handed it off to Steve - who promptly threw it in the trash before resuming his position.  After she obliged, Billy scooped the ice cream into perfectly round spheres, making the cone look picture perfect.  

 

“Oh, now that’s more like it!” she cooed as her eyes darted between the cone and the photos on the menu above the boys’ heads.  “You are such a gentleman, William. Thank you. I don’t know what we’d do without you! Would we, darling?” she looked down at her son and ruffled his hair gently with her free hand.  The little boy remained quiet and indifferent.

 

“It’s no trouble at all, Mrs. Harris,” Billy touched his hand to his chest before leaning in once more, tongue rolling across pearly white teeth, “I would have hated to see you leave here… unsatisfied.”  He finished off with a wink before leaning back away from the woman close to twice his age. He didn’t bother to look back at Steve who, at this point, was making all sorts of noises and mutterings at the scene, but Billy’s shoulders had certainly tensed even further… to Steve’s perceptive eye.

 

Despite the distance Billy had put between himself and Steve’s grating customer, the woman still reached across the counter to trail her manicured talons down Billy’s denim clad arm.  “I can tell you’re a man who would never think to leave a woman unsatisfied,” the words dripped heavily with innuendo as Mrs. Harris fluttered lashes thick with mascara.

 

Something hot and poisonous was curling in Steve’s belly as he watched the tableau unfold.  It was one thing for Billy to play this game with Steve and the girls at school, but to see a woman near the same age as Steve’s mother touch Billy like that made him nauseous.  Steve pushed off the wall and curled an arm around Billy’s waist, yanking him back and inserting himself between the teen and the predatory customer. “Well, I think we can all agree it was nice seeing you, Mrs. Harris.  Hope little Georgie enjoys his cone. Bye now!” Steve said loudly to the pinched face of the displeased adult in front of them.

 

Mrs. Harris purposely looked around Steve to the blonde haired boy behind him and waved, “Thank you once again, William.  See you at the pool!” She gave one last smile before grabbing her son’s chubby hand and dragging him out of the ice cream parlor forcefully.

 

Billy smiled back but it didn’t come close to reaching his now vacant eyes.  Once the woman had turned her back, Billy shuddered and rubbed his biceps gingerly where she had touched him.  His eyes tilted towards the floor unfocused, a barely perceptible tremble in his lower lip that could only be seen by an astute observer… but he managed to school his face in record time, born of years of practice, before Steve could even turn around.

 

He tilted his gaze back up as he turned toward Steve smugly, expecting to be praised for his help with the difficult customer.  What he didn’t expect was the dark look shadowing Steve’s normally pretty face. Billy took a hesitant step back and blinked. When he re-opened his eyes, Steve just looked exasperated and grumpy as he swiped the ice cream scoop back from Billy roughly.

 

“Is that how you solve all your problems?  Just whoring yourself out?” Steve’s jaw ticked with the words he left unsaid.

 

Billy’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily before plastering an easygoing grin across his face.  “Oh, come on, Harrington… not even a thank you? I totally rescued you from that waspy bitch.” Billy had leaned forward to poke Steve in the chest for emphasis on the last two words.

 

Steve rolled his eyes as he brushed past Billy to wash the scoop.  “I don’t need you to do my job for me,” he gritted out through his still tense jaw, though the mood was starting to lighten as their banter brought back a semblance of normalcy.

 

“Kinda seemed to me like you did,” Billy’s grin turned shit-eating and smug before he let his tongue glide over his teeth, thumb hooking on his belt loop as he cocked his hip.

 

Steve didn’t bother to look back at Billy as he washed and dried the scoop, but his hair flopped with the animated motions his agitation brought on.  “Yeah, well, what you did broke like a dozen safety and health code regulations. So,” Steve finally turned around at this so he could point the now dry scoop at Billy accusingly, “if I get fired, it is definitely on your head, asshole.”

 

It was now Billy’s turn to roll his eyes, refusing to take Steve’s anger for more than the bluff it was.  “Whatever, pretty boy. I saved your ass.”

 

“By calling me stupid!” Steve exploded as he jammed the scoop back into its holster.

 

Billy made a tsking sound as if Steve’s argument was irrelevant.  “I’ve been super helpful today, Stevie,” he cringed internally as a hint of a whine entered his voice, “I think I at least deserve a free cone for my services.”

 

Steve looked down his nose at Billy, attempting to pour all his frustration and annoyance with the blonde into one look.  “Fine. You can have the rejected one.”

 

Billy automatically looked down into the trash can where Steve had dumped the cone earlier.  The pout that spread across his face would have been comical if Steve had been looking. Unfortunately, it was wasted on Steve’s back as the floppy haired boy had busied himself with straightening the back counter in a transparent attempt to ignore his blonde nemesis.  Billy stepped forward to push at Steve’s shoulder, forcing the other boy to turn and look at him. “C’mon, Harrington.” He chewed his lip for a moment while Steve just narrowed his eyes silently. Finally something seemed to shift in Billy’s expression. “I don’t actually think you’re stupid,” he said earnestly, lowering his voice.

 

Steve studied the other boy’s features for a moment before relenting with an exaggerated sigh.  He removed Billy’s hand from his shoulder in a gentle, but firm, grip before grabbing a waffle cone and beginning to stuff it with strawberry ice cream.

 

“That’s more like it,” Billy purred as he leaned over Steve’s shoulder to watch him work.  The blonde’s hot breath tickled the short hairs at the nape of Steve’s neck, causing the brunette to shudder involuntarily.

 

“Health code violations!” Steve barked out, causing Billy to back up with his hands raised in surrender.  Satisfied that there was now a safe distance between himself and the double denim menace, Steve continued to pack the cone tightly, careful not to break the delicate sugary walls.  Once he had it successfully filled, he flattened the top so he could drizzle chocolate syrup on it without creating a sticky overflowing mess. Finally, he topped it with whipped cream before handing it over to the surprisingly quiet boy behind him.

 

Billy appeared to be lost in thought from what Steve could observe, so when his tongue darted out to run over his lips, it lacked its usual lasciviousness and was merely in genuine anticipation of the tasty treat he’d dubiously earned.  Steve watched carefully as the blonde took the offered cone and brought it up to lips that looked far too pink and soft to belong to a boy with such sharp edges. An even pinker tongue then darted out to lick whipped cream off the top. Billy pulled away from the cone then with a tiny, satisfied grin and a dollop of whipped cream on his freckled nose.  Steve swallowed hard.

 

_ This wasn’t fair.  This absolutely wasn’t fair _ , Steve wanted to scream at whoever would listen.  He felt a flush creeping up his neck as his pants suddenly felt excessively tight.  Steve was abruptly aware of too many things and far too few at once as his tunnel vision devoured the teenage boy in front of him - tan skin, inviting and soft, draped over hard muscles and a plush posterior, a smattering of freckles accentuating a pert nose and apple cheeks, the hint of a dimple and hairline crinkles that appeared whenever a genuine smile was present, and those soft curls that Steve wanted to dig his fingers into and just  _ pull _ .

 

 _Fuck_.  Steve squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head violently.  This - this was not happening. It was one thing to have wank fantasies in the privacy of his own home - WHICH HE ABSOLUTELY DID NOT HAVE - but allowing this… this lust _imagery_ to overtake him at work, in front of the object of said _imagery_ no less, was not going to fucking happen.  Any more. From this point forward.

 

Steve cursed out loud, this time, before pushing the blonde boy out from behind the counter.  “Out!  _ Out _ .  Time to get back on your side of the counter.”  The other boy was too startled to do anything but comply, his rubber soled boots dragging noisily against the tile floor as he stumbled past the counter.

 

“What gives, Harrington?”  In his confusion, Billy’s words lacked their usual venom.  He tried to make up for it with an angry arch of his eyebrow, but wasn’t quite sure he succeeded given that Steve looked more flustered than intimidated.  Well, if he had already failed at looking intimidating, he might as well go back to licking his ice cream cone. With a small shrug to himself, he did just that.

 

Steve eyed the cone and the obnoxiously pink tongue warily as he pressed his lower body against the counter that separated him from  the object of his desire the annoying blonde.  He was determined to regain control of the situation.  He took a deep, steadying breath and willed his erection to go away (it was only at half-mast, thankfully) before answering Billy.  “ **You** ,” he pointed towards Billy accusingly, “need to stay on  **your** side of the counter.   **You** are not an employee.”

 

“Whatever,” Billy scoffed and rolled his eyes before leaning his denim clad hip against the counter and refocusing his attention on the strawberry goodness in front of him.  He felt more than saw Steve recoil from the counter out of the corner of his eyes as he got too close to the other boy. Billy wasn’t sure what that was about but he could feel his gut tighten with an unnamed feeling similar to disappointment.

 

There was a clattering sound as Steve knocked something off the counter and bent to pick it up, his dark blue shorts stretched tightly over his rear, a hint of underwear peeking out from the waistband.  Billy’s eyes were glued to the delicate knobs of Steve’s pale, mole-dotted spine that were exposed by this position, watching them even out and disappear below the elastic waistbands - one black, one navy - his cone temporarily forgotten and tipping dangerously in his suddenly loose grip.  He swallowed hard, feeling his heart forcing its way up into his throat, jackhammering in his ears, before forcing himself to look away as his father’s words began intruding into his pleasant thoughts, twisting them into something dark and shameful.  

 

By the time he got himself under control, Steve was already busying himself with tidying up the already neat back counter - his favorite excuse when wanting to avoid Billy.  Billy sighed, realizing he’d fucked up again somehow and not even understanding what he did wrong this time. The way Steve blew hot and cold so rapidly left him dizzy. (Not that Billy was much better… but there was only so much self-reflection that could be expected of a teenage boy on an average day.)  The younger teen searched for a neutral topic to get things back on track.

“Hey, um,” Billy hesitated with uncharacteristic nervousness, “did you hear the uh new Motley Crue album yet?”  He bit down on his lower lip as he waited for Steve to answer, hip still resting on the counter and body turned away so that he wasn’t facing the brunette head-on.  The position helped him maintain an air of nonchalance even though his face would betray him if Steve actually turned around.

 

The other boy remained quiet as he continued to sort ice cream paraphernalia and spot cleaned invisible stains.  It was almost to the point where Billy was ready to give up when he noticed Steve’s body still and heard that slightly nasal tenor that Billy would recognize until the end of his time here on earth.  “Uh, no… I guess not. Not yet at least? I might have heard one of the singles on the radio?” It was at this point that he turned to face the blonde, who quickly ducked his face into his ice cream cone to buy some time to school his features.

 

After a few licks of the garishly pink ice cream, Billy looked up at Steve with only the mildest of blushes across his sun-kissed cheeks.  “Oh… well, it’s, um, a bit of a departure from their old style, but I think I kind of like it. You know,” he said excitedly, gathering steam with this topic of conversation, “They’re coming to Indianapolis in the fall.  And Evansville too! I’m definitely going to try to see them at least once… maybe both nights if I can swing it. You- you should come. I-if you want to that is… not with me! Uh, I mean I’ll uh probably have a hot date…. But like, we could carpool I guess?  You’d look really lame pulling up to a Crue concert in that rich-boy car of yours.” Billy ended his ramble with a scoff in a pisspoor attempt at hiding how painfully cringey that unplanned invite had sounded. He bit off a piece of the waffle cone and chewed it slowly to prevent his mouth from making any more mistakes, heart hammering uncomfortably in his throat as he swallowed.

 

Steve was shocked into silence for a moment before giving Billy a sour look as his brain registered the dig about his car.  He scrubbed a hand over his face in agitation while reminding himself that this was the Billy Hargrove version of a polite invite but he couldn’t completely shake his annoyance.  Billy was just too good at rubbing him the wrong way. Steve turned toward the counter and dumped a few plastic spoons into the bin by the register. “They’re, uh, not really my type of music…” he hedged.  It was true that he really wasn’t thrilled at the idea of seeing Motley Crue, but for some reason he was reluctant to give Billy a flat out ‘no’. However, Billy seemed to take his words that way.

 

“Oh…” the blonde said as he visibly deflated, eyes downcast on the remainder of his cone.

 

Steve couldn’t take it.  This was like a million times more effective than when the kids tried to sucker him for more time or quarters at the arcade.  Worrying his lip, Steve was just about to cave and promise Billy he’d go - maybe even both nights! - but that was when Robin burst through the doors and all thought fled from Steve’s mind.

  
  


Robin had been standing outside the door for a while now, talking to a willowy girl only one or two inches shorter than herself.  The slender girl had wavy, white-blonde hair down her back and seemed to be dressed for Woodstock with her vibrant peasant skirt and tube top.  Robin had given the girl’s hands one final squeeze before they parted ways and Robin bounded into the store all smiles and infectious energy.  

 

“Steve.   _ Steve _ .  Steeeeeeeven,” she sang out while twirling down the aisle as if floating on a cloud, her sailor uniform only adding to the spectacle.  New Order’s “Blue Monday” played quietly in the background to accompany her impromptu dance. The boys both watched her, slack-jawed and waiting, as she made her way behind the counter and spun around Steve.  “Guess who got a second da-ate!” she sing-songed while grinning up at Steve.

 

Before Steve could congratulate her, Billy’s excitement had overtaken him.  He leaned forward eagerly against the counter. “With Celestina?” he smiled, genuinely thrilled for his friend.

 

Even as Robin was turning towards Billy’s direction and nodding, Steve was already trying to pull her attention back to him.  “What the fuck?” he rasped incredulously. “You told him about Celestina?!”

 

Robin didn’t even have a chance to respond.  The boys had become laser focused on each other as they dominated the conversation, the rest of the world falling away.  

 

“Yeah, well, sometimes I come in here for ice cream when you’re not working, Harrington,” Billy spit out defensively.

 

Steve rolled his eyes.  “I can’t believe Robin told you,  _ of all people _ , about her les-l-love life,” the angry brunette stuttered as he cast a surreptitious glance around the store even though he knew they were alone.  After all, Robin had just sang out loud about Celestina, which she wouldn’t have done in front of some random mallgoer. And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it?  Robin’s sexuality was a carefully guarded secret. It was only something for her friends to know. Because even though change was slowly coming, and even though she was a girl, they were still living in a backwards Midwestern town where that sort of revelation could be dangerous… even deadly.  At the very least, it might cost you a few friends or relatives or a place to rest your head. And yet somehow Billy Hargrove knew all about it?!

 

Steve was furious.  He could feel the vein pulsing at his temple as he pressed against his side of the counter, crowding into Billy’s space.   _ It wasn’t fair _ , came the familiar refrain in his head, but this time it was for far less pleasant reasons.  Robin was supposed to be  _ his _ best friend.  Robin had confided in him because she  _ trusted _ Steve, because Steve was a special person in her life, and because Steve was a generally good guy.  But apparently she was just telling anyone now if Billy fucking Hargrove knew. He felt the twinge of hurt go through his chest but ignored it to focus on the anger that was already flushing his skin red and hot.

 

“Steve…” Robin’s voice held a pleading tone as she touched his shoulder, but Billy was already cutting in with a growled, “At least she has a love life, Harrington.”

 

Steve felt his eye twitch involuntarily as Billy scored a direct hit.  “God, I am so done with your bullshit, Hargrove!” he yelled in the blonde’s face before pushing away from the counter to pace, thus missing the blonde’s slight flinch at the raised voice.

 

“Gentlemen!” Robin clapped once to get their attention.  “There’s no need to fight over me,” she joked in a feeble attempt to ease the tension.  She diverted her attention to Billy, who had remained still against the counter, and cupped her hands around her mouth to stage whisper, “Be nice, dingus.”

 

“Right,” Billy bit out, more to himself than anyone.  “I should get going,” he glanced over his shoulder towards the door than back towards the Scoops crew.  He worried his lip before adding, “Got a hot date tonight… unlike YOU, Harrington!” because this was Billy Hargrove after all and he literally could not help himself.  Robin looked like she wanted to bang her head into the counter… or maybe Billy’s head.

 

“What the FUCK is that supposed to mean?” Steve shoved himself against the counter once more, his body tense and ready for a fight.

 

“It means I don’t have a “you suck” chart like some people,” Billy taunted as he jammed his ice cream cone top down on the counter before backing away.

 

“You  **told** him!?” Steve exploded.  He felt like he was going to be sick.  Not only was his best friend sharing her secrets with the local douchebag, but apparently she was sharing his as well.  He could feel his fingers going numb, starting with his pinky first, as the anxiety and betrayal welled in his chest, threatening to drown him.

 

“H-he’s been in the back room a few times…” Robin shrugged helplessly, trying to diffuse Steve’s sudden anger.  She was not entirely sure what he found so objectionable about the situation but she knew Billy didn’t help matters with his ridiculous taunts.  She found herself wishing her aggravatingly blonde friend knew how to keep his mouth shut.

 

The two best friends continued to argue back and forth, but Billy couldn’t understand what they were saying any longer.  It was suddenly too hot, too loud, the room too small and the air burning his lungs like he was breathing in fire. Billy’s hands shook as he blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision of the unshed tears welling up unbidden.  He needed to find an escape before the arguing couple remembered he was in the room and turned their anger on him.  

 

He’d fucked up.  Big time this time.  If he stayed around, he knew he’d just make it worse.  That’s all he ever did: made things worse. The reminder came in the form of his dad’s voice, as most of the terrible thoughts in his head often did.  The cacophony of reminders of every little way he failed to measure up battered his mind ceaselessly until he heard a soft whimper escape his lips. This was no good.  He had to leave now.  _ Better to let Robin handle things _ , he convinced himself.  She’d calm Steve down, make things go back to normal, accomplish what Billy couldn’t.

 

He hadn’t realized how far he’d retreated until his hip bumped a chair that hadn’t been pushed in properly, causing a dull screech as it slid across the tile.  Robin whipped her head towards the sound, narrowing her eyes at the blonde’s escape attempt. “Don’t you dare run away, Hargrove!” she yelled across the expanse of checkered tile and primary colors.

 

But Billy just ran faster.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also... sorry, if I made anyone cry with this cliffhanger!


End file.
